KentNewsNet Blogs

Halloween is a time for dressing up (and in most cases, dressing down) to act as someone else. No drama comes along with it, and your friends won’t tell you to “quit frontin”. In my latter years during high school, this holiday was a lost cause. I’d sit and pass out candy to my little neighbors- or little Spidermen, Tinkerbells, whatever name they went by that night. But it wasn’t till I saw kids my age, running around, having fun, and acting like complete lunatics that I got jealous. One thing was for sure, though- when they’d see me in front of my house, they’d never come by for a Milky Way or Twix bar. Maybe it was the fact that I was their age? Maybe they were embarrassed? Or maybe they saw my fake police hat and thought it was real? Yep. That was it. They saw my Billy club and thought I would crush them like a bug on a sidewalk? Damn right- I’d dress up as a policeman, straight intimidation. So, as my first college Halloween approached- I thought, Why not continue?

On the evening of October 25th, 2008, I was no longer known as Michael. I didn’t even go to Kent. No. Tonight, I was Lieutenant Dangle of Kent 911. Not to be confused with Reno 911.

The night started off slow- people didn’t go out at the set neighborhood time like the good ol’ days. College Halloweens start well after the little kids are home and breaking open their candy. Plus, a certain game was on, The Vest vs. The Bifocals, which temporarily paused all attention spans. Ohio State’s loss to Penn State was a bummer, but it sure didn’t halt the night. Lt. Dangle got to watch the game at a frat filled with O-H…I-O fans. Even the girls were glued to the TV- though it could have been their alcohol intake. Because of Lt. Dangle’s age, he was only buzzed off caffeine (underage drinking- you know, no one breaks that law).

One thing that sets high school outfits apart from college costumes is the absence of parents. Because I’m sure if Daddy saw his little Cindy-Lou-Who go out of the house dressed like Cindy Crawford, there would either be an increase in heart attacks or murders. Kent State may have been Moulin Rouge, but the guys won in the creativity contest. Last Lt. Dangle checked, underwear and a bra were not considered a costume. That’s considered a fantasy.

As Lt. Dangle strolled down Main Street, occasionally stopping traffic to allow his friends to cross the street (once speed walking away after he noticed a cop from a different force), “DANGLE!” calls came from left and right. Throughout the night, Lt. Dangle saw two imposters. Acting like a friend, Dangle himself jogged up to the phonies and complemented them on their attire. After all, What Would Jesus Do if He saw someone dressed up as Him? Exactly that.

As the night went on, the caffeine intake was beginning to mess with Dangle’s head. The going got easy, laughs came quicker, and walking became a struggle. That damn Pepsi messes with your mind.

One major factor that Dangle did not take into consideration was the amount of skin he was showing. Never before in his life did his shorts ride higher than Larry Bird’s. How anyone can play a sport in those, baffles him. With the weather in the mid-forties and pants a dreamland away, Lt. Dangle gained respect for these school girls and Britney Spears costumes skipping around. It wasn’t just the gals that were showing off excessive epidermis, though. Perhaps the costume of the night would have to go to a male that rocked his tightie whities only. Lt. Dangle and his force were walking towards University Street when a young man in a blazer said, “Here, you can have your coat back” to his friend. What was under was a sight that I’ll never forget…

A blow up guitar, Fruit of the Looms that would be tight on Mary-Kate Olsen, and “NAKED COWBOY” written on his behind. Cha chinggg. We have a winner.

Lt. Dangle pictured it to be a complete nuthouse on Main Street, circa Wendy’s/Burger King. Rumor had it that the National Guard was called in ahead of time- though Lt. Dangle remembers no such logo on uniforms (could have been effects of the Pepsi, though). Sure, there were cops every 50 feet, but there were no Rodney King incidents. Cops did not approach random people and integrate them. In his bubble world, no horrible incidents happened. Dangle’s first Kent State Halloween was going perfect.

That is until the Pepsi separated him from his friends.

The night came to a disappointing ending. With the horrible combination of frost bitten quadriceps and purple fingers, Lt. Dangle was beyond cold. With the force gathered around Robin Hood, somehow, someway, Lt. Dangle was left by himself. Lonely as Akon. He felt like he lost a child in the mall- calling out for his fellow mates, all he got in return was “DANGLE! Yeah, great costume!”

As much as Dangle loved being the center of attention, he hated the thought of amputation. Quads. Fingers. Nipples (Dangle’s bad, but you need to get the picture). It was pushing 2:00 AM, early given the event, but Dangle was riding solo and freezing. It became a Pepsi-induced jog/run to Manchester Hall.

After what seemed like a cross-Antarctica hike, Dangle heard a familiar voice. When he turned around, his neighbor yelled “Yo, I’m freezing!” This man (well, he was dressed as a beer bottle) was with Dangle just 10 minutes before. Pre MIA. “Everyone left me.” Everyone left Dangle, too! “I’m done, I’m going to get warm.”

So there was of the last scene of our night. Dangle and a beer bottle, jogging and wobbling to our dorm. As we entered the door, the RA’s faces said it all. “Pshh, freshmen…”

I’m home this weekend to visit my friend. Some would call me a “super senior”, because this is my second weekend in a row I’m home. Hell, I’m coming home NEXT weekend for my high school’s homecoming. But I just needed to see this kid, he’s funny, nice and the type of person you just enjoy being around.

Actually, a bunch of my friends came home to see him. One of them goes to Valley Forge, a prestigious prep school known for their football team. They don’t allow their players to come home. They jail them up, basically- no internet, no cell phone for their first couple weeks at school. But he too had to come home to see his friend.

I wasn’t planning on coming home this much, I always looked at past kids who graduated and came back to school as something short of losers. Not anymore. I never, ever, will look at someone like that again. When you come home, you are surrounded by the people who know you best, love you most, and at certain times- need you the most.

So our group of friends reunited. We celebrated our mini-homecoming-before-homecoming, and most importantly, our friend…

On Wednesday night, I got a call from my roommate, who graduated high school with me. He was talking really fast, and was mumbling. At the end of the 15 second phone call, I froze. My arms felt numb. I was sitting at a table with a grad student, a complete stranger whom I met at the library, studying for our history exam which was the next morning. All of a sudden, a different history was flooding my mind.

I made about 20 different phone calls with in the next 10 minutes. Every call lasted the same amount of time, and everyone had the same reaction.

My mom cried. My dad was shocked. A Lehigh middle linebacker was having trouble breathing. A kid that faces the Notre Dame starting defense day in and day out talked as if he saw a ghost. My former teachers cried and asked “Why?”

My friend had committed suicide.

Bryan Patter, a 19-year-old kid with his whole life to live, left his car running in his garage and moved on to a place he deemed better than this earth. Nobody had seen it coming.

The next day, my roommate and I returned home to be with our friends. Since then, memories of him dating back to second grade have been rushing through my head like the tears out of my eyes. Anywhere I turned, I was reminded of what happened. On the way home, I was humming Rihanna and TI’s “Livin’ My Life” and quickly shut up. Sitting at my family’s restaurant back in Pittsburgh, regulars would walk in and say “Hey, weren’t you just home last weekend?” or “Damn you must really hate it up there”. On Facebook, everybody’s status read “RIP Bryan, you’ll never be forgotten” or “I love you Bryan, you’ll always be with me”. People changed their pictures to ones of them and Bryan. I’d be walking around and hear people say “Wow, shoot me” or “I felt like I was dying” as they told everyday-stories. Of course they don’t mean it, and of course they don’t mean to hurt anybody’s feelings when they say it. But I can say that I’ll no longer say that stuff. When something like this happens, it’s not just life changing for the victims- but also their family and friends.

I’m sitting here typing this and asking myself “Why am I even writing this?” People don’t need to know about him, he just wants to be at peace. His family doesn’t need any more attention during this time. But that’s not why I’m spending time on this. I don’t want other people to deal with these situations. I want it known that there are people out there that don’t tell their friends that something is bothering them. With some people, you’ll never know. Some you’ll be able to see. Either way, ask. Be annoying. DO SOMETHING. You don’t want to have this as the result. Nothing in the world can be THAT bad to do THIS to yourself. There’s always a solution. Someone will always listen, and you’ll always have someone to turn to.

I thought long and hard about this. Sometimes pictures aren’t needed. Sometimes they are. In this case, I want you to look into this kid’s eyes and tell me if you see something wrong. If you see a kid who would take his own life. (I’m on the right, he’s on the left)

..Didn’t think so.

I came home for my friend. He’s not really here, but he’s still with me.

Until we come across each other again- RIP Patter. I’m going to miss you…

There are a few things I took for granted when living at home that I am really starting to miss now. Maybe some of you are thinking the same, especially after taking a look out the window today.

1) Not having to walk across campus to find real food. It used to be as simple as walking down the stairs and raiding the kitchen. If that failed, there was always “Mom, what’s for dinner?” More than likely, you weren’t left to starve. Now unless I have a craving for Pop Tarts or EasyMac, eating requires shoes, a jacket, money, and days like today, some serious rain gear. (Eating’s overrated I’ve decided – tonight it’s EasyMac!)

2) Having all your classes in one building. I love the Kent campus and usually don’t mind walking all over it between classes. But when it comes to bad weather, high school seems pretty nice. It may have been 34 degrees and pouring freezing rain outside, but that didn’t matter. You were warm and dry for the next 7 or 8 hours. If it hadn’t cleared up by the time the last tone went off, it was simply a matter of running to the car really fast. Now when the weather is less than beautiful…well I’m sure we’ve all had the chance by now to experience what that’s like.

3) Free laundry. Whether you did it yourself or your mom did it for you – laundry was free and convenient living at home. Now am I only the one who is still putting it off? Maybe it’s just me, but I came to college with rolls of quarters, only to find that my dorm’s washers and dryers don’t take them. It’s a good thing I’m going home next weekend…

I am definitely loving the college life – but it’s going to take a little while to get used to reality!

Sara Scanes | Daily Kent Stater/KentNewsNet.com

 “I never realize how much I like being home unless I’ve been somewhere really different for a while.”

            - Juno

 My colloquium professor showed Juno to our class Monday night, after I had been home for the weekend, and, I must say, I have never heard a truer statement in my entire life.

 And the thing is, I almost didn’t even get back to Toledo this weekend.

 It all started when I got on the turnpike, headed west. I was cruisin’ along (a little over the speed limit—so sue me), singing right along with the Hanson brothers as they yipe the words to “Penny & Me” off of their newest CD, when I see something fly across my rear-view mirror. Less than five seconds later, my car is veering to the right.

 I pulled over, put on my hazard lights, cut the engine, and got out of the car. My tire was all but flat, stripped of everything surrounding the innermost layer of rubber (did you know that your tires have metal wires in them!?). I wasn’t going anywhere.

 Insert numerous expletives here.

 Waiting—for roughly two hours—for AAA to get to me and change my tire, I had adequate time to comtemplate my mortatlity.

 Just kidding! I have mobile internet, so I was on facebook.

 Okay, but I did start thinking about one very important thing: do I make the still two hour trek home on a ‘doughnut’ tire, only to get back, exhausted and pissed-off, at 10 p.m. or do I turn around and drive the 20 minutes back to my nice, clean, cozy room in Johnson Hall?

 I knew what I wanted to do: I wanted to go back to my dorm and lie around and nap and eat ice cream and sulk about the fact that I wasn’t home. At midnight, I would go watch No Country for Old Men in the KIVA. I also knew that I would be disappointing the one person I was going home to say goodbye to: my best friend who was moving to Cincinnati for college. I knew I wouldn’t see him until Thanksgiving.

 Do I go home, back to my dorm, or do I go home, to the friends and family I left when I went to Kent State?

 Decisions, decisions.

 I ended up going home, not because I would have felt guilty if I had turned around and returned to my new home—even though I would have—but because I felt like it was important to show my friend (and my family) that he (they) was (were) still important to me.

 Okay, now I know that this is starting to make me look like a sentimental pansy instead of the hardcore sarcastic witch that I really am, so bear with me here. I’m not trying to show you that I have heart, but that you should remember that you do, and that, even though you’re not home anymore, the people that are there—the people you left behind—wish you were. Your family misses you. Your best friend misses you. Your boyfriend or girlfriend misses you (and I know a lot of you—especially fellow freshman—know how that is).

 Since I’ve been at college, I’ve found that I put a lot of the people back home on the back burner as far as communication goes. If you’re anything like me, you’ve put sleep (napping everyday?), hygiene (showering at least 5 times a week?), and schoolwork (it’s not just us honors college kids who worry) above pretty much everything else, all but forgetting the people you left at home.

Don’t forget about home. The people, the places, the little things that made you feel safe or the little things that made it special (good things, like your adorable dog, or bad things, like the fact that your kitchen sink only produces cold water, even if you turn the knob for hot water).

It’s okay to miss home.

 Like Juno MacGuff, I always miss home after being away for a while.

 The problem is, I’m not sure which place I’m considering my home anymore.

 But that’s a problem for another blog.

Jenny Brant | KentNewsNet.com

My college experience so far has been one big balancing act, and I feel like I’m about to fall off the edge.

Trying to keep both my school affairs and family time in their proper places has been nothing short of exhausting. I was told college would let me experience new freedoms, and it has, but I find myself in a kind of cage as well.

My mother and I have always been very close. We shop together, go to movies together and share the latest gossip with each other. I even tell her what to wear when she goes out with friends - everything down to her shoes and earrings. So, it’s safe to say that not having me at home for weeks at a time isn’t exactly making her ecstatic. It is a big adjustment…for the both of us.

To make the transition easier, she made me promise I would come home every other weekend - at least for the first half of the semester. I only live half an hour away, so I didn’t think it would cause too many problems.

The only thing is…I like to get involved. I always have. In high school I was part of every club I could find. I knew college would be no different. It has only been three weeks of school and my schedule is already burtsing at the seams. From KentNewsNet and the Fashion Student Organization to The Dive, my life is just a page ripped from my daily planner. And, of course, many of these acitivities occur on the weekend - my weekend home.

So what do I make the priority - my weekend trip home, or my extra-curricular activities? Whenever I raise one above the other, the latter seems to start to fall apart.

It’s a balancing act every college student will face in one form or another, and a lesson of compromise we all have to learn.

For now, I must weigh my priorities carefully. I must decide what is most important in my life. For the decisions that we make the next four years will carry with us forever.

Michael Moses | KentNewsNet.com

Today is like Christmas to me. The NFL opener is hours away, which means people will now have something to do on Sunday afternoons and something to talk about Monday mornings. Anybody can make predicitions- but you don’t look smart unless you make them public months in advance. So, here’s my attempt to look like Miss Cleo. Let’s look into my crystal ball…

• Chicago Bears human joystick, Devin Hester, will be lucky to get two touches a game with returns.

This counts fair catches. Honestly, why WOULD you kick to him? The man has 11 career return touchdowns. He is two shy of the greatest return man in the history of the game, Brian Mitchell, who holds the all-time record with 13. Mitchell had a 13 year career. Hester has two years under his belt. If coordinators are smart- if they have half a brain- just kick the ball away. And if the Bears’ head coach Lovie Smith is smart, he’ll find a way to get Hester the ball on offense more often.

• With Philadelphia Eagles wide receiver Kevin Curtis out for the year, rookie wideout Desean Jackson will become the go-to guy.

Sara Scanes | Daily Kent Stater/KentNewsNet.com

A friend sent me a bumper sticker on Facebook today, and it was actually relevant and truth-filled. It said “Welcome to college: 1. Social life, 2. Good grades, 3. Adequate sleep… PICK TWO.” I’m living that bumper sticker, as I’m sure many of you are.

This weekend, I’m not really sure which two I chose, but I can tell you, it was a trip (like most things are with me).

Like me, I’m sure many of you poured yourself into bed around 4 a.m. on Friday (really, Saturday morning) following Vegas Night at the Rec. So, remember that I started my weekend on very little sleep since I had to get up at 10ish.

Continuing with the weekend…

Saturday, my new friend (and photographer) Rachel and I were assigned to go to art in the park to collect audio clips and pictures for an audio slideshow that would be posted on KentNewsNet.com (check it out; it isn’t half-bad).

So Saturday, Rachel and her friend, and my friend (Sarah Coon, whom I mentioned in previous blogs) and I headed to Art in the Park at Fred Fuller Park… on foot. As you can probably assume, we had no idea how far away the park actually was. About a half an hour later, we started to get a good idea; the idea that we should have taken my car. Shoulda woulda coulda. *sigh.

Already exhausted, we arrived at Fred Fuller shortly after one. We stalked around a little, surveying prospective candidates for an interesting interview, before I decided I should assemble the small Olympus recorder I had borrowed. (I would like to note here how ridiculous this equipment looks when you are carrying it around. The recorder that you plug the microphone into is about the size of a post-it note, but the chord that connects the microphone to the recorder… a good 5 feet long and heavy as all hell to lug around. The battery pack—or whatever it is, I’m honestly not sure what it does exactly, but that it is required in order for the recorder to work… I don’t know—is rather large as well, not to mention awkward to carry when you’re juggling a thousand wires and a mic the size of a gumdrop. To sum it all up, I looked like a walking surge protector that had been used to its fullest potential.

I looked foxy, let me tell you.

Any-whoozle, once I was all plugged in, I turned on the recorder and… DEAD. The battery was dead.

I may have sworn the slightest bit.

Luckily, Rachel is a stalker (and by that, I mean a well-prepared member of the media) and had the print reporter’s phone number. She called him and he brought batteries. He brought the new battery, and it was dead, too. I almost cried. Sarah—my savior, my hero, my wife if neither one of us is married in ten years—took the recorder and fiddled with it while I resigned to hanging my head.

Turns out that I just suffer from this little thing called incompetence, and I had been putting the battery into the recorder upside down the entire time.

I may have sworn just the slightest bit.

(more…)

Lauren Spilar | KentNewsNet.com

We’ve been here for what, two or three weeks now?  I think a lot of us have gone home at least once already, especially for the Labor Day weekend.  Everyone has come back with stories about how much things have changed.  I haven’t been home yet, but I already know that things are going to be much different when I get there.  Most of my friends from high school have instantly fallen into the background.  My family has already adjusted to me not being around.  I hear news about all of it – but as time goes on, it seems that I can relate to it less and less.

I have heard so many people say that a freshman should stay at college for at least 6 weeks before coming home.  Why?  To make friends and to adjust to college life, they say.

My friends who have gone home already have all told me this: It was good to be home, but they also missed Kent.  They wanted to go back.  Coming home didn’t mess up their transition into college.  It didn’t make them extra homesick or dependent on their parents.

There is nothing bad about going home, or even missing home.  I think going home every so often is a good thing.  Catch up with friends and family.  Do your laundry.  Replenish your food stash.  What I miss most about home – the four-legged hairy guys.  Yes.  There is nothing I want more than to hug a dog or fall asleep with a cat on my lap.

I don’t think college is about leaving everything behind and completely starting over.  In the day-to-day college life you learn to be independent.  You move on in many ways.  You grow up.  But there is no reason why you can’t spare a day now and then to go home.

Michael Moses | KentNewsNet

I’ve been on campus for a total of 13 days. I’ve been lectured by professors, upperclassmen, fellow ‘12 classmates, RA’s and janitors. Some of the advice helped, some didn’t. Most freshmen are stubborn and don’t listen, but I have. And I’ve come to some conclusions. Sharing is caring, so…

IF YOU LOCK YOURSELF OUT OF YOUR DORM ROOM, AT LEAST MAKE SURE YOU HAVE CLOTHES ON:

Guilty as charged. I’m walking back from the bathroom, drenched, in a towel, and realize my key is on my desk. Called the roomy, he’s at lunch. Half hour wait to get back in. So, don’t look like the idiot. Don’t look like me.

CLASS IS NOT A FASHION SHOW:

Ed Hardy, Juicy, Coach, Gucci, Lacoste, whatever. Sure, look nice, but don’t go all out. Ex the sunglasses, ex the heels. It’s school, not prom. As good as you look, you also look out of place. Kind of like a civil rights speaker at a KKK meeting- they mean good, but just aren’t in the right place. Dress comfy- sweats, a nice t-shirt, hoodie in the colder weather. There’s always time to dress up, class just isn’t one of them.

QUIZNO’S FOR BREAKFAST CAN’T BE HEALTHY:

We’ve all done it. Sleep in, wake up to a prime rib sandwich on asiago parmesan bread. As convenient as it is, as delicious as it is, it’s not good. I’m lucky enough to be in Eastway, where an omelet is an elevator trip away. The Student Center should be off limits if you’re visiting for your first meal of the day (unless it’s Einstein’s). Waffle fries, woks, root beer floats and subs should not be breakfast foods.

BLACK SQUIRRELS IN TREES ARE THE CLOSEST THING TO THE REAL-LIFE BATMAN:

Have you ever walked under a tree, particularly behind Kent Hall/in front of Franklin Hall, and heard a war going on above you? Did you think it was Batman when you saw those black (not golden) flashes jumping around? It’s nothing spectacular, just another black (?) squirrel. I don’t know about you, but I’m from an area where squirrels are brown, maybe sometimes a tint of grey. Here? My God. They’re downright scary at that “flying-in-trees” moment. You think Heath Ledger’s going to drop out of the sky and say “Why so serious? It’s just a squirrel…” Welcome to Kent.

INTERIOR DECORATING IS NOT JUST FOR GIRLS:

Or homosexuals. And before everybody jumps on me for adding that last sentence, let me explain. Most people tend to assume a gay guy is neat and has a knack for decorating. That’s not only unfair to him, but it’s unfair to straight males. What if a guy and his partner don’t like that stuff- what if they’re messy and have no desire to keep a neat house? Do you think they want people to make that assumption? No. And as for me and my roommate, everyone that comes into our room either says “You’re gay, you guys are so neat” or “Wow, you guys majoring in fashion design? You gay?” Straight guys can have clean rooms, too. And actually, it’s girls that say that stuff to us. Guys respect it.

Just think, the year isn’t even over. So much more to learn…

Jenny Brant | KentNewsNet

“You’ll make your greatest friends in college.”

I can’t tell you how many times I heard that my senior year of high school. The statement made me uneasy.

I had a tight-knit group of friends. I mean REALLY tight-knit. How could we not be? We shared so many crazy memories. We had spent countless nights laughing about nothing and planning out our futures. We cried on each other’s shoulders during personal tragedies. We even went to Florida together after graduation!

How could these people not remain my greatest friends? Who could possibly take their place?

I went home over the holiday. I’ll admit I missed my high school buddies terribly after only two weeks of separation. But the welcome home wasn’t as “warm” as I had expected. In fact, by the end of the weekend I was aching to get back to Kent State.

We didn’t “mesh” anymore. We had changed - and so quickly too. We had new friends. We had already had different experiences. We weren’t the same. We fought from the second we started hanging out.

How does that happen? How does life change so quickly?